


A Woolly Welcome Home

by SpeakingOfStrawberryJam (KyrianKreep)



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Parentlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-27
Updated: 2012-06-27
Packaged: 2017-11-08 17:22:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/445628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyrianKreep/pseuds/SpeakingOfStrawberryJam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If anyone were to ask John what the highlight of his day was, he would almost always answer ‘returning home’. This was especially true on days like this. The weather was excellent, his lover and their four-year old son were free from work and nursery respectively, and John had to spend hours stuffed into a small office seeing to the complaints of seemingly endless patients. But his little family easy make it up to him when he steps through the door.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Woolly Welcome Home

**Author's Note:**

> For [consulting-dragon](http://consulting-dragon.tumblr.com/). Thanks for the amazing prompt! <3

If anyone were to ask John what the highlight of his day was, he would almost always answer ‘returning home’. This was especially true on days like this. The weather was excellent, his lover and their four-year old son were free from work and nursery respectively, and John had to spend hours stuffed into a small office seeing to the complaints of seemingly endless patients. If it weren’t for their unfortunate need for cash and his conscience, he would have taken the day off without a second thought.

Sherlock had tried to make it more bearable for them all, bless him, with an unexpected call during John’s lunchbreak. He must have been on speakerphone, because Hamish had been squealing ‘daddy’ and babbling at him even while Sherlock chuckled and talked in a slightly more coherent fashion. While it brightened his day considerably it also made him long to be there with them to see the giant worm Hamish had found and experimented with; to hold Sherlock’s hand and laugh while their son bounded across the grass of Regent’s park chasing butterflies, forced to run after him; to see Hamish manage to get ice-cream in his hair and splash about with him in the swimming pool.

Then, as if the shift itself wasn’t bad enough, they had a practice meeting afterwards which all doctors had to attend.

It was late by the time John crept up the stairwell to 221B, juggling with his keys and the bag of groceries he had fetched on the way back. He was confused and slightly worried to find a completely silent flat awaiting him. It was late, yes, but not late enough for Hamish to be in bed – let alone Sherlock – and when awake there was always some sort of noise coming from the both of them. Hamish was too young to stay quiet for more than thirty seconds with nothing to entertain him. Sherlock wasn’t much better unless he was in one of his moods, which were much less frequent since he entered parenthood.

Disappointed at not being barrelled over by his toddler at first sight, he locked the door behind him and finally glanced around. His eyes caught on their sofa and suddenly he wasn’t so disappointed after all. He grinned, drinking in the sight and carefully tiptoeing his way into the kitchen to drop off the shopping and grab the camera. Fortunately they hadn’t moved by the time he returned, muffling the sound of the camera’s ‘beep’ and kneeling down to preserve the moment.

Sherlock lay stretched out along the sofa on his back, legs hanging over one arm of it and his right arm dangling to the floor just above their copy of _Le Petit Prince_ – in French, since Sherlock spoke it fluently and was keen for his son to as well. His left arm was wrapped around Hamish, who was curled up on Sherlock’s chest just as he used to as a baby, one little fist pressed to his lips and the other clutching the jumper Sherlock wore. It was John’s, knitted in cream wool with ribs along the front – the one John had worn on their first date. It was too baggy for Sherlock but at the same time too small, short on the arms and body, an odd mix. Not nearly as odd as Hamish’s choice of outfit; the little boy was drowned in John’s black and white striped jumper, the sleeves folded in half and rolled up but still almost covering his hands. Only his toes poked out of the bottom. They were both fast asleep and looked the very definition of adorable.

Barely a moment after the shutter clicked, Hamish’s face scrunched up into a yawn, eyes twitching as he unsuccessfully fought to keep himself asleep. John smiled, reaching out to smooth the ever-present errant curl of dark hair away. Hamish grinned before he half-opened his eyes, then grinned some more as he saw John kneeling there. 

“Daddy,” he said, yawning again and reaching out the arm not attaching himself to Sherlock. John gently kissed the tiny palm. “Missed you,”

“I missed you too, munchkin,” he muttered, “But we’re all home now,”

Hamish nodded as best as he could without lifting his head, giggling when John kissed his cheek. 

Yes, returning home to moments like this was definitely the best part of John’s day.


End file.
